


Maybe...

by thilia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-05
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilia/pseuds/thilia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe this is not the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe...

**Author's Note:**

> Written for deatheaterfest 2011 on LJ.

They were losing. It was very clear to Rabastan as he watched another one of his fellow Death Eaters go down; hit by the clumsy spell of some inexperienced Hogwarts student, and killed instantly. It became more and more obvious that they, the Death Eaters, had severely underestimated the strength of the Light Side. They were going to lose, and Rabastan knew that would be his end.

He would either die, or get captured and arrested, which would mean spending the rest of his days in Azkaban. There was no getting out this time, he was sure. They would let him rot in that hell hole, and that was, very obviously, the last thing he wanted.

Rodolphus was still out there, probably battling a group of students and trying to save himself by killing Auror after Auror, student after student. But they were stronger. Despite appearances, the inexperienced students and the small amount of adults fighting for the Light Side were stronger than them, the Death Eaters; the _elite_ of the Wizarding world. The Dark Lord clearly hadn't realised it yet, but Rabastan could see it now. There was no way of getting out alive if he stayed here.

He had to get away. He hated the idea of running and abandoning his brother and all the other people who'd been everything to him during the past few years. He had never seen himself as a coward. But maybe he was. And maybe it didn't matter. Maybe nothing mattered anymore. His survival instincts were stronger, and he was honestly surprised that there were still so many of followers out there, fighting for the Dark Lord. Unlike him, some of the other Death Eaters had always been cowards. But none of them had left. All of them – with the exception of the ones who were already dead – were still here, fighting for something that suddenly didn't matter to Rabastan anymore. Who cared about the elitist Pureblood society the Dark Lord had promised them over and over again? The only thing Rabastan wanted was to live.

If he was the only one who could see that this would end badly for them, so be it. He wasn't going to wait around and hope for a miracle. He was going to take things into his own hands and get the hell out of there. He didn't know if he would even be able to do _that_ , and if he would make it, but he had to try. Otherwise, his life as he knew it would be over.

For only a moment, guilt got the better of him. It wasn't like him to leave everyone behind, especially Rodolphus who, since the death of their parents, had always been there for him. He'd taken care of him, even after he'd married that crazy bitch Bellatrix. Part of Rabastan hated the idea of leaving Rodolphus behind, but he had to do it. He had always done his best to protect and defend his people as best he could. But right now, he didn't care. He wanted to survive; nothing else mattered. Not even his brother.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a jet of dark purple light rushing towards him. He ducked and just barely escaped the lethal curse. A swift move of his wrist sent an even worse curse back to whoever was hiding behind the trees, cowardly trying to kill him from a distance. The agonised scream reached his ears seconds later, and Rabastan knew the curse had hit its target.

He looked around. The coast was clear, so to speak. No one else was paying attention to him. Rabastan took his chance and ran; throwing spells left and right to get through the colourful storm of curses alive. He made it to the edge of the battle field when he felt a sharp pain in his left side, and collapsed to the floor. Panting, he pushed himself up, hissing at the pain that seemed to consume his whole body. He spotted the student who had hit him with that admittedly excellent spell instantly, and narrowed his eyes as he tried to get back on his feet. Realising that Rabastan had seen him, the student seemed too terrified to move; Rabastan could sense his fear, and for a moment, it thrilled him.

He lifted his wand, pointing it at the young boy who looked more like a child now, with deadly precision. But then he lowered his wand and shook his head inwardly. This boy had his whole life in front of him, and he might be killed by someone else anyway. He should give him these last few moments. Besides, he still wanted to run, despite the still throbbing pain in his side.

With a swish of his robes, he turned around and continued his way to Hogsmeade, breaking into a run after a few slow steps. He didn't know how bad his injury was; he could feel the hot blood trickling down his side, soaking his robes, but he couldn't look. Not now. He needed to get somewhere safe first; then he could worry.

He stopped abruptly when he saw a flash of blond from the corner of his eye. Freezing, he watched a cloaked figure make its way to Hogsmeade, the long blond hair flowing in the wind. For a moment, Rabastan thought it might be Narcissa. But then he realised it was a student. And like him, she was trying to get away from all the death and destruction, trying to survive.

Rabastan didn't know why, but he followed her. She was going where he was going anyway, but he broke into a run, trying not to lose sight of her. They reached Hogsmeade a short time later; the girl running with hurried steps, Rabastan limping behind. The pain was getting worse, and part of him began to wonder if he was even going to reach the Apparition border.

For a moment, he'd lost sight of the girl but as he entered the quiet village, he saw her again, bent over and trying to catch her breath. Obviously, she wasn't aware that someone had been following her, or she wouldn't let her guard down like this. He stopped for a couple of seconds to catch his own breath, then suddenly heard voices coming from behind him, not too far away.

He reacted instantly, without considering what he was doing – there was no time for that. As he closed the distance between him and the girl and closed his arms around her, he already felt the sharp tug of Apparition take them away. For a long time, there was nothing, then Rabastan felt himself materialise, and a second later, firm ground under his feet.

The next thing he felt, even before he had the chance to open his eyes and recover from the entirely revolting sensation of Apparition, was a small but surprisingly strong fist connecting with his nose. He stumbled backwards, hit the wall and slid down onto the floor, yelping in pain when he landed on his injured side.

"Who are you?" a high female voice asked sharply, the panic clear in her voice. "Where did you take me? Don't move – I will kill you if I have to!"

When Rabastan finally managed to open his eyes and push himself up into a sitting position, he came face to face with the girl he had saved. Her face was still partially masked by the hood of her cloak but the firm line of her lips suggested that she was serious – as did the long elm wand pointed straight at his chest. She _would_ kill him; he had no doubts about it.

"Who are you?" the girl asked again, her wand shaking a little as she tried to seem brave and confident. But Rabastan could tell that she was scared out of her mind. Trying to signal that he wasn't going to hurt her and that he was, for the moment, not a danger to her or anyone else, Rabastan lifted his hand and tried to answer her question. Instead, he croaked.

He tried again after clearing his throat. "I won't hurt you," he managed. "We're in my family's house in France – far away from the battle. I don't intend to kill you, so please…"

With his hand, he motioned her to lower her wand, but instead, she made a sharp gesture with her own arm, setting her jaw. It obviously wasn't going to be that easy.

"My name is," he said, then gasped as the effort it took to push himself up enough so he could lean against the throat made another jolt of pain shoot up his side. The pain was joined by the throbbing of his bleeding nose – that girl had a fantastic punch, he had to give her that. "My name is Rabastan Lestrange," he finally managed, looking up at her. "Yes, I am a Death Eater but I'm also a fugitive. Trust me – I won't hurt you."

Hearing the name made the girl gasp and take a step back as well as her wand waver a little, obviously unsure whether to keep protecting herself or trust him. Rabastan hoped she would pick the latter.

After a moment, her trusting side seemed to win over and she lowered her arm to her side while her hand stayed firmly wrapped around her wand.

He couldn't blame her; if he were in her situation, he wouldn't trust himself either. Trying not to make any abrupt movements, he slid the robes off his shoulders, looking down at his white shirt that was almost fully drenched in blood now. He tried to take off his shirt but the pain had made his left arm limp and he let it fall to his side a second later, giving up. Instead, he looked up at the girl again, hoping for her pity and that she wouldn't let him bleed out on the fine Persian carpet.

"Look," he said then, sighing. "I know you're probably scared of me – and who can blame you? But surely you must see that I need some help. I need a healing spell, and if you can perform one, then please help me. You really can trust me – I left the Dark Lord's side, which means we basically want the same thing now – to live and never have to see that slit-nosed bastard again."

He took a breath; it was difficult to speak as the blood loss had weakened him. "Please help me," he murmured, and was horrified by the pathetically pleading tone in his voice. But he couldn't afford to be cocky now – he needed this girl's help.

He watched her contemplate this for a moment, then slide off her cloak, and he couldn't suppress a smile when he saw her Slytherin school uniform underneath. At least she wasn't some bloody Gryffindor – or worse, a Puff. He looked up at her face and blinked because she looked somewhat familiar.

Then he remembered. "You're Archibald Greengrass's girl," he said. "I knew your father – we used to be friends at school." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he tasted blood. "What's your name?" he asked as softly as he could, trying to gain her trust and get her to talk to him – and more importantly, help him.

The doubt on the girl's face was plainly obvious for a moment, and he saw her struggling and trying to find out what the right thing to do was. He was about to beg when she said, her voice calmer now, "Daphne. Daphne Greengrass."

He saw her relax a little as she looked down at him, seeing that he'd let go of his wand when they'd arrived here. She seemed to feel a little safer, and as she took in the bloody shirt on him, worry crossed her pretty face. "Are you all right?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out, isn't it?" Rabastan said slightly sarcastically, but not unkindly. "So can you help me? Do you know any healing spells?"

Daphne nodded and approached him slowly, lifting up her skirt as she knelt down in front of him, For a moment, Rabastan stared at those milky-white thighs in appreciation and fascination but focused back on the matter at hand, namely his wound, when Daphne undid the buttons of his shirt and helped him out of it, which caused another sharp jolt of pain to shoot through his body. He hissed, then looked down at the injury himself, gritting his teeth when he saw that it was worse than he'd expected.

Then he felt the tip of Daphne's wand press against the cut in his side, and he groaned in pain. Was she trying to kill him? But it only took a few moments before he realised that the pain was slowly draining out of him as she healed the wound, leaving only a long but clean dark-red cut.

When he looked up at her, surprised at her healing skills, she flushed, seeing the question in his eyes. "I interned at St. Mungo's," she said softly. "I was going to become a healer but…"

Her voice trailed off and Rabastan watched her face. _But then the war happened._ He knew that was what she had meant to say. He couldn't blame her; he was sure it had all seemed quite hopeless for a long time for someone on the Light Side.

"Sorry about your nose," she said then, brushing the tip of her wand over the bridge of his nose. A soft cracking sound, and he gasped in pain when his nose was mended. So it _had_ been broken. When she was done and withdrew her wand, he reached up, touching his nose carefully.

"Thank you," he said when he had reassured himself that she had fixed his nose properly; not that it mattered. He would've been fine with being marked or disfigured for the rest of his life, if it meant surviving. "That was an excellent punch, by the way. Ouch. Who taught you that?"

He looked up at her and grinned, and was relieved when Daphne's lips stretched into a grin as well, her pale cheeks flushing anew. She let out a soft laugh, and after the darkness that had lain over the past few weeks, it was the most beautiful sound Rabastan could've asked for. "Are you all right?" he asked then. "Aren't you hurt?"

He moved his arm tentatively, stretching and relaxing it, but there was obviously no permanent damage. His side still hurt a little but at least he could still use his arm. The scar would remain but he honestly didn't care. She had just saved his life, scars didn't matter to him.

"I'm fine," Daphne said, pushing herself onto her feet again and running a hand through her hair. "I stayed inside the castle until there was nowhere left to hide. Thank you… for bringing me here."

Her voice suggested that she still wasn't sure it was the best thing for her to be here with a known Death Eater, but she seemed to begin to trust him – which was all Rabastan could ask for. He pushed himself up, getting to his feet but staying leaned against the wall as his head spun slightly.

"Come," she said, and soft hands brushed his skin lightly as she lead him to the couch. He lay down and stretched, rubbing his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. A moment later, she brought him tea which he sipped slowly; the warmth that slowly spread in his belly felt surprisingly good.

"We should stay here until it's all over," he said when he had emptied his cup, setting it back down on the table. He met her eyes. "I'm sure we will know when it's safe to return you to your parents."

"What about you?" Daphne asked, more curiously than hesitantly "Aren't you going back?"

Rabastan looked into those clear blue eyes for a long moment, then glanced down at his folded hands on his lap, and shook his head. "No," she said, "I can't. I can't go back. If my side… well." He stopped for a moment and corrected himself. "If the Dark Lord wins, I won't be able to return to England until no one remembers me. I'm a deserter, so to speak, and the Dark Lord would kill me instantly if he ever saw me again. He knows I left. He must know. And if your side and that Potter boy wins, then I would be arrested the moment I set foot into England."

"Oh," Daphne said, her blond brows furrowing as she let this sink in. "I'm sorry."

Rabastan raised an eyebrow questioningly. "This has nothing to do with you. All right? I chose to leave, I chose to save you, so this is my doing. I didn't leave because of you."

"Oh," Daphne said again, her tone slightly different than before. She nodded, then glanced down and around, taking in the surroundings. "We used to have a house like this," she said softly. "I remember spending a lot of my time as a kid in a house just like this one. My mum grew up here somewhere."

"Right," Rabastan said, remembering. "Archibald married that gorgeous French girl… what's her name again? Aurélie? Yes, Aurélie Deschamps. That was it."

Daphne nodded, giving him a small smile. "Your parents are all right, I trust?" Rabastan asked then, realising that many people had lost their families in this war and that it was polite to ask.

"Yes," Daphne said, nodding. "They were fine when I last saw them, and I doubt anything has changed in the past few days. I think I would've been notified if…" She trailed off again and turned her head to look out of the window.

Rabastan nodded, not wanting her to think about something too painful; he would know if something had happened to the Greengrasses. He watched her face, then took a moment to really look at her; he'd been in too much pain to really notice her beauty before. Her face was perfect with a straight nose, long lashes and those full, pink lips. Even with the unflattering green and silver school uniform, he could tell that her body was just as flawless. She had to be just seventeen, but she looked older, more experienced.

With a sad smile, Rabastan realised that it was the war that had made her grow up too fast, and he even felt something like guilt for a moment or two, as he kept looking at her face.

Feeling his eyes on her, she shifted a little, her cheeks flushing again as she kept looking out of the window. Suddenly feeling like a pervert, he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. "You may explore the house if you like," he said then. "You're not my prisoner; you can even go outside, if you wish. But don't go too far away; France has been affected by the war as well, and there are Death Eaters lurking around here somewhere. They can't find this house, though, so… stay close, all right? But if you're hungry or desire a shower… go ahead. I will be fine."

Daphne looked down at him, then gave him a smile, which he couldn't help but return. Then she got up and left the room, and he leaned back and relaxed when he heard her soft steps on the stairs.

He thought of Rodolphus for a moment, wondering if his brother was still alive, or still fighting. Or in Azkaban. He swallowed hard and ran a hand through his hair, pushing those thoughts away. He had made his decision. He'd chosen to leave; it was too late to go back now. All he could do was hope that Rodolphus would make it, and that they would see each other again someday.

A short time later, his eyes fluttered closed as exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep.

* * * * *

They had a quiet dinner that evening; Rabastan had woken to the smell of roast potatoes which Daphne had served with sour cream. It was a sparse meal, for Rabastan's standards – and for Daphne's too, probably – but it warmed his stomach and gave him some of his strength back. He thanked her, then helped her wash up. This house had been empty for a long time; the house elves had been sent to the Lestrange houses in England but it was clean, and apparently Daphne had found something edible in the kitchen.

The house was cold, but clean – permanent cleaning spells kept it tidy, even when no one was here. They drank some wine after dinner, and talked about nothing in particular before Daphne's fatigue won over and she went upstairs to sleep in the guestroom. Rabastan stayed in the darkness of the living room for a few more minutes, before he, too, went to his room and got into bed.

* * * * *

It was the middle of the night when he woke up. He had heard the old wooden floors creaking and knew Daphne was awake. He stayed still in his bed, listening intently, and wondering if she was leaving or if she would go back to bed in a little while.

Neither of the two things happened, and he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep when the door of his room opened. He could feel Daphne standing beside the bed for a long moment before he felt the mattress move and the sheets being lifted as she slipped into the bed beside him. He could feel her eyes on him, and after a moment, he opened his own, their eyes meeting in the darkness. He looked at her questioningly, trying to figure out what she was doing here. He didn't trust his own mind to come up with a reasonable explanation for why an approximately seventeen year old girl would want to be here, in the bed of a considerably older man she barely knew. So he just kept looking at her, and waited patiently for her to either fall asleep, or…

As it turned out, he didn't have to wait long before she did something. A pink tongue darted out to wet her lips as she shifted on the bed and pushed herself up a little, and a few seconds later, her soft fingers brushed the bridge of his nose. It didn't hurt anymore; she had done a nearly perfect job fixing it.

He kept looking up at her, his heart speeding up a little as he waited to see where this was going.

Even though part of him knew what was about to happen, and that it was wrong and he shouldn't pursue it, he knew that he wasn't going to reject her. She was a beautiful young woman, and it had been years since Rabastan had been in the company of _any_ woman. He doubted he would be able to reject her, even if he wanted to. But he didn't, so he just held his breath as her soft fingertips ghosted over his face, waiting for her to take the first step.

He closed his eyes as said fingers traced his jaw, then moved down to his neck; her feather-light touches feeling soothing on his hot skin. Her fingers were slightly cold and he unconsciously leaned into the touch, wanting more of that incredibly nice, cooling sensation.

It didn't take long before he felt her warm breath on his face, and then her lips pressed against his. The kiss was hesitant and light and he could feel her fear of rejection. It was then that he realised why she was doing this; she just needed affection. He didn't know how long it had been since she had been touched or held, and while he was no replacement for a family member, friend, or even a boyfriend, he wanted to give her as much comfort as he had to offer.

He gave her some time to figure out if this really was what she wanted, knowing that once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. But she didn't draw back, and soon, the hesitance made room for passion as she pressed her lips harder against his, giving him her silent permission to take this further.

Rabastan didn't have to be asked twice; he slipped a hand around the back of her neck and deepened the kiss, prying her mouth open with his tongue and sliding it into her mouth, kissing her deeply. A gasp escaped her lips when he let his hands move their way down her body, gently stroking her back and her long hair before he flipped her over and slid on top of her.

He broke the kiss for a moment or two, looking down into those intent eyes that, even in the darkness, had a surprisingly light blue colour. She shifted underneath him, and he felt his cock harden when his chest pressed against her breasts.

He tried to look for some sort of hesitance in her eyes, but there was none. She wanted this as much as he did. That realisation gave him the last incentive he needed, and he kissed her again, pouring all his want for her into the kiss. She kissed him back eagerly; she tasted sweet and innocent, and he wondered if she'd ever been this close to a man before. The idea of being her first made a groan escape him as he pressed his erection against her body, which felt so incredibly good beneath his.

His hand rested on the back of her neck for a long moment, then slid down to unbutton her shirt; she was wearing her school shirt but her legs were bare. After opening a few buttons, he slid his hand inside her shirt, another low moan filling the room when his large hand wrapped around one small breast. She gasped into the kiss and he broke it briefly, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, as he brushed his rough thumb over her nipple, feeling it harden under his touch.

He licked his lips, then bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, pinching it lightly with his teeth, causing her to whimper and writhe a little underneath him. His other hand was resting on her hip, his fingers digging into her skin as his arousal grew. There was no going back now – not that either of them wanted it.

He moved his lips to the other breast, pushing them together a little as he slowly began to rub against her. Feeling her grind her own hips against his while her nails grazed the sensitive skin at the back of his neck, felt so incredibly good. He had never realised how much he'd missed a woman's touch in the last few years; he had needed it more than he'd thought.

The heat was growing between them and as he sat up, he pushed the sheets off his shoulders and sat back, looking down at her. His breath hitched as he looked down at her; she was unbelievably and breathtakingly gorgeous in the pale light of the moon. She was thin; not quite a woman but not a child either. The soft curves of her body made his cock twitch and he slid his large hands down her sides, following the curves of her hips and possessively touching those thighs that he had already admired earlier.

Then he hooked two fingers under her knickers, feeling the soft lacy fabric caress his calloused fingertips. He closed his eyes for a moment, then bent down to kiss her flat stomach, drawing a circle around her bellybutton as he pulled her underwear down. He felt her shift a little, helping him take off the rest of her clothes, and as he looked up at her face, he saw the need in her eyes, which sent another jolt of pleasure straight to his cock.

He wanted her. He wanted her so badly, and right now, he didn't care whether it was wrong or right. It was obvious that they both needed it to get over this horrible day, so he wouldn't deny them anything. Kissing her stomach again, he slowly moved his lips down between her legs, kissing the soft patch of hair there. A whimper escaped her lips and he smiled against her skin. Then he hitched her legs over his shoulders and buried his face in her crotch, unable to hold back any longer. He breathed her in, his eyes fluttering closed as he brushed his lips over her pussy, nudging her lips apart to flick his tongue over her clitoris. He closed his lips around it and sucked lightly while her moans reached his ears; the sweetest sound he'd heard in years. He looked up at her as he pleasured her, seeing her hands grip the sheets as she tried not to lose control. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her teeth digging into her bottom lip.

He had forgotten what it was like to be able to make someone feel like this, and watch them respond to his touches and kisses. And Daphne was incredibly responsive which only intensified his need for her. She pressed forward into his mouth, and he could feel that she was about to come undone. At the same time, his own needs grew, and when he finally, reluctantly drew back and sat up, her disappointed whine made him chuckle, the resulting glare on her face downright laugh.

He gave her a smile, his hand sliding between her legs again as he reached down to touch himself as well. He made a content sound in the back of his throat as he stroked his cock slowly while his thumb circled her clit slowly, his fingers teasing her opening. He stared into her eyes as he slid a finger inside, her wet heat surrounding him as he pushed past the ring of muscles. He added a second finger and moved them back and forth, trying out different angles to see which ones made her moan.

Her clenching around his fingers got more erratic, so he stopped and pulled his fingers out, sliding them into his mouth to taste her again. He watched her eyes widen and darken, and gave her a teasing smile before he slid between her legs again, his body covering hers wholly. He brushed some long strands of light blonde hair out of her face and tilted her chin up as the head of his cock brushed against her pussy. She gasped, and he brushed his lips over hers again, trying to reassure her. He still wasn't sure if this was the first time for her, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. She wanted this just as badly as he did; that much was clear.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue rubbing against hers as he finally gave a little push and slid into her, feeling her body resist for a moment before it accommodated his length, wrapping itself around him. He closed his eyes and let out a breath, willing his body to stay still for a moment and give them both time to get used to the sensation. Daphne's nails dug into his back, her breath fast and shallow in his ear. He stroked her side soothingly, then brushed his fingers over her pussy again, stroking her clit lightly and smiling when she visibly relaxed.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper inside, causing him to moan and his hips to jerk forward a little. He could feel her smile against his shoulder, obviously knowing what kind of power she had over him. Her wet mouth sucked on his shoulder and neck, biting lightly, and he couldn't hold back anymore. Changing his position just a little, he began to move, his thrusts shallow but effective, as was proven by the breathy moans that left her mouth every time he pushed in.

She was still incredibly responsive, pushing back against him, her hips meeting his thrusts every time, demanding more. When he was sure she could take it, he allowed himself to let go, and thrust faster and harder, his cock sliding in and out of her in a fast, sure pace. He wanted to watch her, see her touch him, but the urge to close his eyes got the better of him and he let himself feel instead.

It didn't take long for him to feel the beginnings of his orgasm, and he knew she was close to. She left marks on his back as her fingernails grazed his skin, her teeth digging into his lips as she lifted her head for another bruising kiss.

She was whimpering again, and when he felt her clench around him, he opened his eyes and watched the look of intense pleasure on her face as she came with a soft cry. Feeling his own orgasm wash over him, Rabastan quickly pulled out of the warmth of her body before he came, coating her belly with his seed. He heard her breath hitch when his warm come hit her stomach, and he stared down at her, his hand wrapped around her breast as he milked the last of his orgasm.

Then he collapsed onto the mattress beside her, exhausted and spent. He panted, his arm and leg thrown over her body in an unconsciously protective and possessive way. It didn't take long until both of them fell asleep, their bodies warm, flush, sweaty and satisfied.

* * * * *

It was early in the morning of the next day when the owl's beak tapped against the window, and Rabastan got up to take the Morning Prophet and feed the grim-looking Ministry owl a treat. He closed the window and watched it fly away until it disappeared in the distance.

When he turned around, he saw Daphne watching him, a surprisingly sad expression on her beautiful features. He furrowed his brow in confusion but it didn't take long for him to find the cause of her sudden sadness. The front page of the Prophet revealed that the war had ended and the Dark Lord had been defeated. The whole issue talked about the final battle, the people that had been lost, the Death Eaters that had been captured, and Harry Potter, who had saved them all.

Rabastan swallowed hard when he saw Rodolphus's name among the captives' while Bellatrix Lestrange was listed as dead. He didn't exactly mourn her, but could imagine what Rodolphus had to feel like right now; despite her many faults, he had loved her more than she could ever imagine.

He spotted Daphne's name on the "Missing" list, and sat down across from her, then spoke before she had time to protest. "I'm going to take you back," he said quietly, and the pained look on her face actually affected him. What they had shared the previous night had turned out to be more than either of them had initially realised. But Daphne had to go back; they both knew it, even though it seemed harder for Daphne to accept it than it was for Rabastan. "Your parents must be worried, and wonder what happened to you, so I'm going to take you back."

Silence fell over the room after that, and they ate their breakfast in silence for a long moment. "I don't want to go back," Daphne said in a small voice. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Rodolphus asked, looking up to meet her eyes.

Daphne was biting her lip again, her cheeks flushing as she shrugged. "What's going to happen to you?" He could see that she was trying to act calm and reasonable, but then she blurted, "Wouldn't it be possible for me to tell people that you saved me? Because you did. Without you, I would've been killed; I know it! You saved my life, Rabastan, please let me save yours."

The desperate look on her face killed him, and he let out a heavy sigh. He didn't want to break her heart; he really didn't. But he had to be realistic here. This wasn't some fairy tale where they could live happily ever after. It just didn't work that way in the real world. The Light Side might have won this war, but he honestly didn't believe there could be a happy ending for the two of them.

She was young, had her whole life before her. He had lived his life, with his many bad choices, and had to accept the consequences now. She would find someone else someday, someone younger who could give her everything she deserved. And Rabastan hated to admit it, but he would probably end up hurting her anyway. They were too different. It wouldn't work. And he doubted that she could make the Ministry change his punishment. She was very convincing, he knew, but he didn't think she would be able to change this.

It took a while but he managed to explain it to her. He could tell that she wasn't convinced and that she still believed in their happy ending together. She was young and maybe a little naïve which was why he couldn't blame her for her enthusiasm. He wished he could believe in a good outcome, too. But too much had happened; he'd seen too much to believe he deserved something this good.

Finally, Daphne accepted that this had to be goodbye. She kissed him as they stood there, ready to Apparate, and Rabastan almost felt his resolve crumble. And as he wrapped his arms around her and Apparated them to England, taking her back to her parents where she belonged, he couldn't help but hope that maybe this wasn't the end. Maybe there was a way for the Ministry to find a way to forgive him. Maybe he would be able to go back to England someday, and maybe Daphne would even be there, waiting for him.

Maybe…


End file.
